


The Nickname

by OkamiShadou98



Series: After Lucifer's Return from Hell Collection [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Children's Stories, Fluff and Angst, Lucifer has issues, Reflection, Trixie is growing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkamiShadou98/pseuds/OkamiShadou98
Summary: Lucifer had all sorts of names for himself. And he’d list them as easily as some would describe their outfit.Jeans. Tee-shirt. Sneakers.Satan. Beelzebub. The Devil.But to Trixie, he would always be The Ugly Duckling.
Series: After Lucifer's Return from Hell Collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835839
Comments: 23
Kudos: 152





	The Nickname

**Author's Note:**

> Another short work that just sort of happened. I wanted to do something from Trixie's perspective and this is what I came up with.
> 
> Special thank you to MorningStarGirl666 and smoothmove76
> 
> Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Lucifer had all sorts of names for himself. And he’d list them as easily as some would describe their outfit.

Jeans. Tee-shirt. Sneakers.

Satan. Beelzebub. The Devil.

But to Trixie, he would always be The Ugly Duckling.

It wasn’t a nickname per se, and she’d certainly never utter such a thing in his presence, but after his return from “home” as her mom said - though she knew Lucifer had really been in Hell - she could not help but draw a comparison between the man and the children’s story.

The story of The Ugly Duckling had never been Trixie’s favorite, and for good reason. Every time her mom or dad had read it from her worn book of bedtime stories, she’d cry inconsolably. For how could something so small and innocent as a baby swan be treated so cruelly by its own family? How could something ever be hated simply for what it was?

At six, she’d thought the story needlessly morose. And at eleven, when Lucifer returned dusted in ash and with a haunted expression that left his eyes hollow, she’d realized that not every story was confined to the page. 

Because Lucifer’s family had indeed disliked him. The bitter tone he used when referring to his past did not escape her, not anymore. Nor did the longing he could not contain - a wish for something so beyond his grasp, that it may not exist at all. In the end, she’d asked Amenadiel point blank about Lucifer's relationship with his siblings.

The elder angel had been surprised and Trixie wondered if anyone around her was noticing that she was growing up. Still, he’d indulged her, speaking at length about Heaven before the rebellion. He spoke of days spent teasing one another and nights of shared beds and giggled secrets. He spoke of the games and the tears, the love and the hate. But mostly, he spoke of how everything had broken. Irreparable.

Trixie never told Lucifer of the conversation, some sixth sense telling her that he would be upset with her. She still dwelled on it though, on the siblings who had thrown him from his home for being different.

Next, she’d asked Maze about what Lucifer had been like in Hell the first time. Fortunately, Maze had always treated her as a diminutive adult and she wasted no time in sharing all the gritty details. 

A fair bit of it had given her nightmares. Not the description of Hell itself, but rather Lucifer. She imagined him burning in the Lake of Fire. Featherless wings of boiled skin. Hands twisted into gnarled claws.

A scarred face with those same sparkling brown eyes that never failed to convey amusement.

She’d never seen his Devil face but had overheard her mom and Lucifer talk about it once. To her dismay, her mother had spoken with such sorrow while Lucifer had remained repulsed by the other face. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? Surely Lucifer should have been the sad one, it being his face and all. Yet, as Trixie was learning, outer and inner beauty were two entirely different things.

How could anyone ever use a negative word to describe Lucifer? What was ugly about the man who indulged her constantly - and often at his own expense? The man who had saved her mom’s life on more than one occasion. The man who made her pancakes. The man who braided her hair before school.

More importantly, what could possibly be considered ugly about someone who had suffered so greatly and still loved?

He didn’t say it to her often, if at all, and Trixie had never much minded. She’d always understood, for all the power Lucifer possessed, there was something inherently fragile about him. She knew better than to yell at him out of frustration or ever say something like “I hate you” in the heat of the moment.

The way he interacted with herself and her mother though… love was the only word for it. When they piled together on the couch for movie night, Lucifer was always in the middle, an arm around either of them, holding on with a fierce protectiveness.

So to Trixie, Lucifer would always be The Ugly Duckling. _Her_ Ugly Duckling. Not because he’d suffered but because he’d survived.

And when she caught that far away look in his eye, she’d drag him off to help her with homework. And when he began to twist and pull at his cuff links, she’d resolutely hold onto his hand.

And when she knew all he saw in his reflection was the Devil, she reminded him that it was only angels who could fly...


End file.
